


Man's Best Friend

by MacFran2018



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dogs, Gen, Hurt Fox Mulder, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacFran2018/pseuds/MacFran2018
Summary: Injured and trapped inside a moving freight train car, Mulder depends on Scully and a new four-legged friend to rescue him. This was written many years ago as a tribute to my four-legged best friend, Dynamite a Husky/Shepherd mix.Spoilers for Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose and Quagmire.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Pooh

**Thursday, January 8, 1998 - Alexandria - 5:47 a.m.**

He was being followed. For the past mile and a half, Mulder had become aware that his movements were being mimicked as he jogged away from the park back towards his apartment. He picked up his pace and glanced over his shoulder, noting that his shadow had done the same and was steadily gaining ground. Mulder scoured his surroundings for a weapon he could use and paused to snatch up the first thing he saw. He turned and hurled the footlong fallen tree limb at his follower and watched as it completely sailed over his intended victim's head. The flying wood proved to be an invitation to play rather than a deterrent. Mulder stood with hands on hips and sighed in annoyance when the limb was quickly retrieved and brought instantly back to him.

"Don't you know when someone's trying to take your fool head off?" he asked while backing up a few steps, trying to keep a safe distance between himself and the large canine that wanted to be his friend. At least he hoped that was all it wanted. It hadn't barked or growled at him, only trotted cautiously behind him for the past fifteen minutes. Tossing the stick seemed to have sealed the relationship as far as the dog was concerned. He let it drop from his mouth to lay at Mulder's feet, then looked up hopefully at the tall stranger with tail wagging, eagerly awaiting another toss.

"Okay," said Mulder, as he reached carefully for the stick. He wasn't particularly fond of dogs. Over the years, there had been occasional run-ins with snapping jaws and bared teeth, but luckily, he had been able to ward off an attack with either cunning or speed. Most had been fairly harmless, but he knew that even the most gentle looking canine could still bite. This one showed no desire to attack, though it was a frightfully large animal, mostly white and wolf-like in appearance. So far, the dog merely wanted to play, so Mulder decided to oblige. "Okay boy. Go get it!" He chucked the stick with all his might and grinned when the dog took off after it. "Sucker," Mulder grinned, then turned to run in the opposite direction.

Glancing over his shoulder, Mulder checked on the progress of the pooch and noticed that the stick he had thrown had landed in the center of a three-way intersection. He sputtered to a halt and watched with concern as the animal neared its goal with total abandon. It was a residential area with fairly low speed limits and light traffic, still Mulder felt a tightening in his gut as he watched the dog headed at top speed towards the intersection. He had only wanted it to stop following him, he didn't want to see it become roadkill. Quickly pulling off the glove on his right hand, Mulder placed his thumb and index finger into the corners of his mouth and let loose with a shrill, attention-getting whistle. The dog stopped in its tracks and turned back to see his new playmate signaling with a wave for him to come back. The dog was then startled by a fast moving pickup truck speeding through the intersection, snapping the stick in two under its wheels. Mulder blew out a relieved sigh when the animal turned away from the danger and headed back towards him.

Mulder slipped his glove back on and jogged in place to keep warm in the forty-degree weather while waiting for his new four-legged companion to reach him. He had to admit to himself that it was a regal looking animal, though he wasn't sure of its lineage. Its face, chest and legs were solid white, while its back and bushy, turned-up tail were a blend of black and brown. Thick-coated and powerfully built, it looked like it should be the lead on a sled dog team. Mulder was sure he had seen similar dogs in the Alaskan wilderness programs he'd seen on television. It appeared to be healthy and well-groomed, likely a beloved pet that had recently strayed away from home.

"Sorry about that," Mulder apologized to the animal when it came and stood expectantly in front of him. "I don't suppose just telling you to go home would help, would it?" In response, the dog merely sat down on its haunches. "That's what I thought. You wouldn't happen to have any ID on you, would you?" Mulder knelt down and carefully reached his hand out to make contact. He met no resistance or aggression whatsoever as he examined the metal tag that hung from the dog's red, leather collar. He found the dog's name and a phone number to call if lost, engraved into the heart-shaped metal. Mulder grinned as he petted the dog's head and barely avoided a wet tongue against his cheek. "Okay, okay. I'll help you find your way home. Let's go... Pooh."

Mulder was hesitant about allowing the dog into his apartment but couldn't figure out anything else to do with it for the time being. His paranoia was threatening to surface when he began imagining that the dog would suddenly turn vicious and rip out his throat. He picked up his gun and turned off the safety in preparation for an attack, then went into the kitchen and removed a bottle of spring water from the fridge. He took several swigs for himself then thoughtfully filled a bowl with some of the water and offered it to his guest. As the animal drank, Mulder went to the phone in the living room and placed a call to the number from the dog tag. He waited through eight rings before deciding no one was home. Perhaps the owner was already out searching for his or her missing pet. He'd have to try again later, but for now, it was time for him to get ready for work.

"Listen," he spoke to the dog, "I'm going to go take a shower and get dressed for work. You will behave yourself. You will not tear up anything, you will not pee or crap on my floors and you will not do any barking. You will stay right here and keep quiet and out of trouble. Understand?" If the furry beast did understand any of that, it showed no outward indications of such. All Mulder could do was cross his fingers and hope for the best as he began to shed his sweats and head for the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. He emerged ten minutes later with a towel wrapped about his waist and one draped about his shoulders. He was anxious to see what kind of condition his living room was in and was relieved to see everything just as he had left it. The dog had settled down peacefully on the throw rug in front of the coffee table, and lifted his head up as Mulder made an appearance in the room.

"I see you're still here," said Mulder, toweling his hair dry. He sniffed the air for any unpleasant odors, and thankfully found none. "I guess this means you're house-broken, huh? Good."

Picking up the cordless phone, Mulder dialed the number from the tag again, but was still unable to reach anyone. If he couldn't contact the owner by the time he was ready to leave for work, the only other alternative he could think of was to drop the dog off at the nearest animal shelter. He decided to make another phone call, having to wait through only two rings before a smooth, female voice replied, "Scully."

"Hey, Scully, it's me. I might be a little late getting into the office today. I've got a pet project to take care of first.

"What sort of pet project?"

"The canine variety. This big, fury animal followed me home and I'm trying to contact the owner to return it. Failing that, I'll make a detour by the Humane Society to drop it off."

"Mulder, are you saying that you have a dog in your apartment right now?

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to see it become roadkill."

"I thought you hated dogs."

"I never said I hated dogs."

"You certainly didn't have any warm feelings for Queequeg."

True, not that he considered the poor departed Queequeg much of a dog. He had thought of Scully's ill-fated pet as little more than a dust mop with teeth. It also didn't help matters to know that the little fur ball had dined on the remains of its previous owner. He nearly chose to remind his partner of that fact but wisely thought better of it.

"I am not a dog person. I will admit that."

"And yet you're going out of your way to help a stray get back home? What kind of dog is it?"

"I'm not sure. It looks as big as a wolf, but I'm guessing it's some kind of Eskimo dog. It's mostly white and looks like it should be pulling a sled. And get this: the name on the tag reads Pooh. As in, Winnie the..." Mulder snickered at the absurdity of such a wimpy name cast upon a large, adult male dog.

Seemingly reading his mind over the phone, Scully responded, "Mulder, he was probably named by a child when he was a puppy; a small and cuddly little ball of fur."

"Scully, I've never told you this before, but I really like it when you talk puppy talk," Mulder teased.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"Don't bring any fleas to work."

Mulder tried one last time to contact the dog's owner before leaving home, still with no success. The dog had remained silently curled up on the accent carpet all the while Mulder was getting dressed. He appeared to be asleep but instantly came to life when he heard the door being opened. He was at Mulder's side ready to go without prompting.

"If you see any of my neighbors, be cool, okay? And please, no biting."

He didn't understand why he was talking to the dog as if the animal could understand anything he said. Surely, it probably knew certain rudimentary words and commands, and could possibly grasp some comprehension from various intonations, but the odds of it getting the full meaning of complete sentences dotted with slang were not that great. Not being a dog person, Mulder was surprised at how easily he accepted this animal at his side as they boarded the elevator together. When the elevator came to a stop at the next floor to let someone on, Mulder slipped his hand through the red collar to hold the pooch in place. He wasn't sure how it would react around others and he didn't want to create a scene.

When the door opened, an attractive woman dressed in a short-skirted business suit under her opened overcoat prepared to step on board. Mulder had seen her several times before. She had always given him an icy greeting, seeming to have a predisposed dislike for him or perhaps it was a dislike for all men. At any rate, her body language had always screamed, 'Back off!' which Mulder wisely did. She saw him and the mask of distaste was brought forth, then she looked down and saw the dog and registered surprise.

"Is that your dog?" she asked before stepping in.

"No. No, it's not. I found it this morning while out jogging, and I'm going to see if I can find its owner. So you don't have to worry. I know it's against the rules to have dogs here."

She stepped into the elevator and reached her hand out to pet the dog. Mulder was about to warn her to be careful but it wasn't necessary. Pooh obviously appreciated the attention and lifted a paw to shake hands.

"Oh, she's beautiful."

"He," Mulder corrected her. "If my study of anatomy is correct."

The woman smiled up at him, then turned her attention to the dog again, still petting it and speaking in a higher-pitched voice with babying overtones. "You're such a big, beautiful pup-pup, aren't you? Big, sweet baby, yes you are."

Scully's puppy talk had been amusing, but this was almost nauseating. He tried not to let it show when the woman looked at him again with a genuine smile and said, "I never would have pegged you for a dog person. I think it's real sweet what you're doing. I just love big dogs. He looks like a cross between a German Shepherd and a Siberian Husky."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too," Mulder lied. The conversation with Wanda - already on a first name basis - continued out to his car where they finally parted ways on very good terms. Mulder opened the back door and gently urged the dog inside. After climbing in behind the wheel and starting the car, Mulder looked over his shoulder at his passenger, stretched comfortably out on the back seat.

"You're quite the little ice-breaker, aren't you?" Mulder grinned. "I see now why they call you man's best friend. Try not to get carsick back there, okay?"

Within a few blocks of reaching the animal shelter, Mulder came upon some police activity that drew his curiosity. Four police cruisers and a couple of unmarked vehicles were parked in front of a private girls' school. Mulder rolled down his window and displayed his badge to a uniformed cop who was directing traffic to move along.

"Fox Mulder, FBI. What's going on here?"

"A fifteen-year-old girl's been allegedly kidnapped. Probably a runaway though. You know how it is with these rich kids. Always doing something to get their folks' attention. She must be the daughter of some bigwig if they're calling in the FBI."

"No, I was just driving by. Looks like you guys got enough manpower on the case already. Good luck with it."

"Hey, nice dog," the cop said, pointing towards the back seat. "Government issue?"

"No, it's a stray I found this morning. Taking him to the animal shelter. There's one around here somewhere, right?"

"Yeah, go down to the end of the street and take a left. It's a big white building on your right. You can't miss it."

"Thanks a lot." Mulder gestured his appreciation and drove on. As he came to a stop sign at the end of the block, he looked to his right and noticed a young man climbing over the high fence in the back of the academy. The man removed a pair of binoculars from around his neck, then quickly got into a parked, black jeep around the corner. Acting on instincts and nothing more, Mulder proceeded to follow behind the vehicle at a safe distance.

After thirty minutes of driving, which included a stop at a fast food drive-thru, Mulder was beginning to think that he was wasting his time trailing the black jeep. He was all set to give up when he saw the jeep heading into the railroad stock yard. His curiosity further piqued, Mulder continued to follow. The jeep finally came to a stop on a gravel covered area in front of several tracks of engineless freight cars. Mulder parked out of view of the jeep behind a deserted warehouse. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he found himself talking to the dog again and shook his head in disbelief at the ease in which he had accepted the animal into his world. Upon getting out of the car, he gently pushed the door closed, not bothering to make sure the locking mechanism caught.

As Mulder reached the edge of the warehouse and looked around the corner, he saw the young man he'd been following in a crouching position on top of a tubular-shaped, black freight car. Along with several numbers in bold, white paint was the word 'Sugar.' Mulder watched as the man opened the hatch on top of the tank car and dropped something through the opening. Mulder took out his revolver, ready to approach his quarry. He felt that it was quite possible that this was the kidnapper of the teenage girl from the school, and that she was being held captive inside the tank car. His plan was to capture the suspect as he climbed down from the train, but his attention became diverted by something brushing against his leg. He gasped at the sudden, unknown contact, then expelled a heavy sigh when he looked down to see what it was.

"You nearly scared the life out of me," Mulder whispered. "Look, you need to go back to the car and wait for me, okay? Go back to the car." Mulder pointed, hoping that the animal would at least understand the hand gesture, but the dog simply stared at the pointing hand instead. Mulder looked around on the ground for a stick to toss, but found none available. He took off his left glove, pulled it halfway inside out to give it more fullness, then tossed it towards the car. "Go play with the glove," Mulder told him, and the animal did what it was told. Mulder then turned to look around the edge of the building again and found the suspect nowhere in sight. "Damn! Where'd he go?"

Mulder moved cautiously forward with his gun poised to fire. He kept his eyes on the move, looking all about himself as he approached the jeep. When he discovered no one hiding inside, he looked towards the trains and considered the possibility that the man may have gone into the freight car with the kidnap victim. Could be he was hurting her at that moment. The thought occurred to Mulder that he should have called for backup, but now that his hand was on the first wrung of the iron ladder leading to the top of the tank car, he didn't want anything else to divert his attention away from his goal. If that bastard was in there hurting her, he didn't want to waste another second getting to them. Silently making it to the top, Mulder positioned himself over the opened hatch and pointed his gun down into the darkness.

"FBI, don't move!"

He couldn't see if anyone was moving or not. It was pitch black inside the rail car. Mulder took out a penlight from his coat pocket and focused the tiny beam into the shadows, bending down on one knee in order to lean in and get a better view. There was a crumbled bag from the fast food restaurant, but other than that, the car appeared to be empty. Suddenly, Mulder heard barking from the ground. He looked over the edge and saw Pooh, the hair raised on his back, his teeth bared and barking viciously up at him. Too late, Mulder realized that the barking wasn't aimed at him. He caught sight of a shadow falling across his path, then the back of his head exploded with pain and he fell forward, dropping his flashlight down into the opened hatch. His gun flew out of his other hand, landing where, he couldn't tell. He felt hands on him, first removing his coat, then maneuvering him towards the opening in the tank.

Despite the stabs of pain in his head and the dizziness he was experiencing, Mulder could still sense what was happening to him. He tried to grab the dark-haired man who was pushing him towards the gaping blackness. Failing that, he tried holding on to the edge to prevent his descent. Something hard jabbed into his side twice in quick succession, causing him to scream out in agony and relinquish his safety hold. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling through darkness. He tried to brace his fall with his hands but upon landing, heard something pop. He cried out as a searing pain tore through his left shoulder. That, added to the dizzying ache in his head and bruising right side was reason enough for Mulder to call it a day. As his world grew darker and he drifted off into a state of unconsciousness, the last thing he remembered hearing were the far away muffled sounds of a dog barking and growling, followed by a single gunshot.


	2. Where's Mulder?

**FBI Headquarters - Thursday, 11:15 a.m.**

Scully glared at her watch again. "Where the hell is he?" she fumed aloud. "Just how long does it take to drop a dog off at the animal shelter? If he thinks he's going to take half the day off and leave me with all this damn paperwork..."

This wasn't the first time her partner had found a reason to stay away from their office when he knew the expense accounts were due and a basket full of reports still remained to be typed and filed. She thought of giving him another fifteen minutes before calling but after ten seconds, she could no longer contain her curiosity. She picked up the phone and dialed his cellular number. All that greeted her were several rings followed by a recording suggesting that the number she was trying to reach was currently out of service. Scully slammed the receiver back down. He had probably turned it off. It wasn't the first time he had done that either. Scully recalled vividly one instance her partner had deliberately tuned her out. It was the night he met Bambi, the pretty entomologist who caught his eye during an investigation of invading cockroaches.

Perhaps this time he had encountered a pretty veterinarian while checking out an abnormal flea infestation. Of course, she could be wrong. The battery could be dead in his phone, the dog may have needed medical attention and Mulder was too preoccupied to give her a call. Scully preferred to give him the benefit of a doubt. Ever since her illness and miraculous recovery, he had shown her more consideration than he had in the past. The fact he had called her earlier that morning to inform her that he would be late was proof of that. In the old days he would simply take off to parts unknown and leave her to worry what had become of him and hunt down clues he may have left behind. But since her close brush with death, he had taken to keeping her well informed of his whereabouts. Keeping that in mind, Scully pushed her anger back down and continued with the paperwork, knowing that Mulder would either be calling her soon or walking through the door with a darn good story to tell.

* * *

**The Train Yard - 12:22 p.m.**

Mulder blinked his eyes several times to convince himself that he was actually seeing what was before him, which was absolutely nothing. Besides awaking with a case of the shivers, excruciating pain emanating from his left shoulder and the sensation that someone had dropped an anvil on his head, Mulder's world had become one of utter darkness. There was a chance that he'd suffered some damage to his optical nerve; perhaps some simple swelling that would easily heal with proper rest and treatment. He'd try not to worry about it for now. First, there was the monumental task of shifting himself into a more comfortable position. He lay in a twisted heap on a cold, smooth surface, his right arm beneath his torso, his legs bent and crossing each other, and his aching left arm twisted behind his back.

Gasping in agony at the effort, Mulder slowly forced himself up into an upright position. A new explosion of pain both in his head and shoulder nearly caused him to black out again. Cradling his injured arm close to his chest, he attempted to take a few deep breaths, but discovered a good reason not to. He recalled getting a couple of kicks to his ribs. He was left with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest which made taking deep breaths difficult to master. It probably signified either bruised or cracked ribs. Mulder loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, then sat quietly for several minutes and waited for all his aches to settle to a more tolerable level.

He thought at first that his arm had been broken, but a very careful and tentative inspection informed him that he was suffering instead from a dislocated shoulder. He recalled that Mel Gibson had a dislocated shoulder in one of the "Lethal Weapon" movies. Mel had dislocated it on purpose to maneuver himself out of a straight jacket. He was also able to pop his shoulder back into position by banging it against a hard surface. Of course, that was only a movie and a contrived plot device. Although Mulder couldn't help but give the idea some thought, he took in consideration that Mel let out a pretty convincing scream when he slammed that shoulder against the side of a car door to reset it. No, the "Lethal Weapon" way was not the most desirable route to take.

Okay, next on the agenda was to figure out how to get out of his current dilemma. He mentally pushed the pain aside so he could concentrate on his predicament. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't suffering from blindness after all and that he just happened to be in a place with no light. His penlight was probably down here somewhere, he thought. He was about to conduct a search for it when his right hand brushed against his left wrist and he remembered what kind of watch he was wearing. His fingers fumbled about for a second or two, then a bright, green glow lit up the watch dial. He nearly cried with relief when he saw the faint illumination of his immediate surroundings.

"Okay," he sighed. "That helps."

He looked up at the ceiling, barely able to make out the hatch which he had been tossed through. It seemed unbearably far away, but he knew it would get no closer with him just sitting there. But first, he loosened his necktie further and shoved it upwards until it circled his head and covered the stinging gash opened up behind his left ear. He carefully wrapped and tucked in the ends of the tie to create a bandage. He then proceeded to remove his belt from his waistband, secure the ends, then drape it around his neck to use as a sling to help keep his injured shoulder immobile. The simple motions took a lot out of him and he was panting hard by the time he'd finished. He had to take a few moments to rest before continuing. Once he felt ready to proceed, he slowly rose to his feet. Dizziness struck and he reached out with his right hand, hoping to find a perch to steady himself. Thankfully, he met with the smooth, curved wall of the tank and held himself still until the dizzy spell passed.

After a moment, he was able to try again. He stood up straight, then turned on the tiny light on his watch again. Lifting his eyes towards the sealed exit, he tried to calculate the distance he now needed to cover. He glumly realized that he wouldn't be able to reach the hatch without at least a two-foot leap into the air. If the hatch was not locked, he could push it open with his first jump. He'd need to make a second one to grab the edge of the opening and pull himself up. He'd done his share of one-handed chin-ups, but that had been when he was in top form. He wasn't sure he could manage it in his present condition, but if he wanted out, he'd have to give it his best try.

He took one last look at his target before releasing the tiny light-giving button on his watch. He then took a few preparatory breaths and finally made a stab at leaping up to slap his open palm against the closed hatch door. It turned out to be locked, and he only succeeded in further aggravating his injuries. As he landed, his legs buckled and he sank to his knees, trying desperately to catch his breath and pacify his screaming shoulder. He could tell now that gaining his freedom was not going to be a simple task. The other thought to cross his mind was that Scully was going to kill him.

* * *

**FBI Headquarters - 3:15 p.m.**

Mulder still had not reported in. Scully tried his cell phone again, then his home number but still had no luck in reaching him. She used the computer's phone book to get numbers to contact all the animal hospitals and shelters in Mulder's neighborhood and general area. No one had seen or heard of her partner or the animal he was with. As a last resort, Scully put a call in to the Lone Gunmen. Her hopes that perhaps he had been recently in touch with them were quickly doused. None of them had heard from him but they vowed to put feelers out in case he had been drawn into some covert operation.

Scully decided to go check out Mulder's apartment. Perhaps he had never even left home, but if that was the case, it could mean he had possibly fallen victim to illness, accident or worse. As Scully found a place to park in front of Mulder's building, she noted the absence of his car in the area. So, he had left home, or at least his car had. She needed to check out his apartment anyway. Perhaps she could discover a crumb of a clue as to what may have happened to him. As she was about to enter the main entrance, she caught sight of a white blur out the corner of her eye. She turned to get a better look and was pounced upon and nearly knocked over, by a huge, furred beast. She stood petrified for a few moments as a pair of large, white paws pressed against her upper chest, and rows of big, sharp teeth loomed close to her face. When a wet tongue gently licked at her chin, she finally realized that she was not about to be eaten alive.

She reached a gloved hand up and timidly petted the dog's head. "Good dog," she spoke to it, keeping her voice level and non-threatening. "Down, boy. Down."

The animal gave her one final kiss, then dropped down to all fours. Scully released a relieved sigh, her heart no longer racing. Thinking back to Mulder's description, she realized that this was the dog he had been trying to help get back home.

"You must be Pooh."

He reacted to the sound of his name by offering his paw to shake. Scully stooped down and reciprocated the gesture, then lightly stroked his back. "Hi, big guy. How are you? What happened, huh? Did my partner ditch you too?"

Pooh trotted away towards a large evergreen bush, dug around near its base, then came back to Scully with something in his mouth. Scully reached down and took the man's black, leather glove the dog offered her. She easily recognized it as one of Mulder's. She wanted to ask the animal where he had gotten it, but knew she'd be wasting her breath. Then she happened to notice some dark splotches on Pooh's white fur. Upon closer examination, Scully realized that she was looking at dried blood, and that it didn't belong to the pooch. She stood, considering the possibilities. Only two came to mind. One was that her partner had been injured in an accident of some kind and Pooh was perhaps doing an imitation of Lassie getting help for little Timmy who's trapped in the well. Her second guess was more insidious. It could be that the sweet, innocent-looking face in front of her had an evil side to him. Scully had heard of cases where dogs had been conditioned to attack and kill with a simple word or sound. They could be completely docile until the cue to kill was given.

Scully carefully looked about the area to see if she could spot someone watching her. If Mulder had stepped into some covert trap, she could be the next victim. Seeing no obvious signs of surveillance, she took out her phone and made a call to Animal Control. She informed them that she had a possible vicious dog on her hands and requested an immediate pickup. When she was told that a truck would be by in about fifteen minutes, Scully studied the passive animal, trying to decide what to do with it while she waited. She needed to be able to keep it from running away and she still needed to check out Mulder's apartment. She placed her right hand on her holster and unstrapped her gun, preparing it for easy access should the dog suddenly turn violent. She then, gently tugged on the dog's collar to get it to go with her into the building.

She chose to use the stairs instead of the elevator. It would be just her luck if the dog had been trained to attack by the sound of an elevator's 'Ding.' She made it to Mulder's apartment without incident and after taking a sample of the dried blood from the dog's coat, she escorted it into the bathroom and closed the door. Releasing a deep sigh over her accomplishments thus far, Scully began to look around the apartment, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. She checked Mulder's two phone messages, one being from her and the other from Frohike, both trying to ascertain his whereabouts. She moved on to his computer to see if he'd left her any messages. When she didn't locate any, she snooped through his e-mail, then the leftover files in the browser cache that showed the places he had last visited on the internet. She wasn't surprised to discover he'd been surfing through the adult sites and a couple of UFO sites, but according to the dates, that had been three days ago.

There seemed to be no other choice but to start calling the hospitals to see if he had been admitted. This wasn't the first time she had to do this and she had the numbers already programmed into her cell phone. She went down the list systematically, giving her partner's name, then inquiring about any dog bite victims or John Doe's fitting his description. No one fitting Mulder's description could be found but one dog bite victim had shown up at the Georgetown emergency room. His name was given as Victor Moore, but he was too young and much too short to be her partner.

Scully's next step was to put out an APB for Mulder's car. She hated to have to inform Skinner that her partner had gone missing, but she knew that he had come to trust in her instincts in these matters. She wasn't sure herself how she knew that Mulder had somehow gotten himself into serious trouble once again. She just knew she had to go with her gut feelings and do everything possible to find him, fast.

* * *

**Train Yard - 7:42 p.m.**

Mulder's abandoned car had been spotted by police cruising in the area. A detailed search of the nearby warehouse and the surrounding grounds was launched as soon as Scully arrived. After giving out instructions, Scully turned her attentions to Mulder's car, checking the interior for blood, but finding none. She did, however, notice a number of thick, white hairs on the back seat and a couple in the front seat that let her know that the dog had indeed been traveling with him. But there was nothing to indicate an attack took place inside the car. Scully got out and aimed her high-powered flashlight towards the ground, searching for footprints, but the surface was mostly gravel. Instead of moving into the warehouse to search, she chose to go to the rear of the building near the railroad tracks.

"Muld-d-der-r-r!"

It was faint. Very faint, and he thought at first that he had dreamt it. He forced himself to shake off his sleep and held his breath as he listened intently.

"Agent Fox Muld-d-de-r-r-r!"

"Scully," he whispered. "Here... I'm in here."

Her voice grew slightly louder as she began to move in his direction. Mulder knew he had to make some noise to be heard. He yelled out her name and his location, and banged his fist several times against the wall of the car. It sounded loud to him and he waited to see if she had heard.

She probably would have heard him if not for the noisy, static calls from police radios, the loud whirling from the approaching helicopter called in to aid with its search lights and the rumblings of nearby train engines. Still, her instincts were leading her straight towards him until a female agent ran up to her excitedly.

"Agent Scully, we've found something!"

Scully turned and trotted off with the other agent away from the train cars and away from her partner's pathetic, muffled plea for help. She was led to an area where a set of tire tracks was found alongside a man's bloodied and torn trench coat. Scully instantly recognized the coat as that of her missing partner. Her suspicions that he had been attacked by the dog appeared substantiated. Blood was found in sparse amounts on the ground all around where the coat lay. The signs that another vehicle had been in the immediate area indicated that perhaps someone had found Mulder and carted him off somewhere. She could only hope that someone had recently dropped him off at the nearest hospital. She'd have to make another round of calls. Even though she had left a message to be contacted should her partner or someone fitting his description show up later, she didn't trust that the message would be passed on during a shift change.

"Let's get pictures of this area, then bag the coat," Scully instructed her fellow agents. "I've got some things to check out."

He no longer heard her voice, and he feared that she hadn't heard him. His hand was sore from slamming it against the hard, stainless steel surface and his voice hoarse from yelling her name, but she hadn't heard. He hung his head dejectedly. The dizziness returned and he was short of breath. He was right on the edge of passing out again.

"Scully," he whimpered. "Don't leave me here. Please..."

As he leaned back trying to catch his breath, Mulder found himself equating his predicament with the residents that lived on the tiny speck of dust in Dr. Seuss' "Horton Hears a Who." Scully was his Horton. If anyone could hear him, she would. All he needed to do was give one large, ear-shattering yell, which he did. "Scul-l-l-l-l-ly- ly-ly-ly!" he screamed her name at the top of his lungs, causing his chest to tighten with pain and his head to pound fiercely. But it was worth the effort, he thought. She had to have heard him. Panting hard, he laid back and rested, waiting for her to throw open the hatch and haul him out, knowing that he couldn't repeat himself if his life depended on it, not that it didn't.

As Scully reached her car, she thought she heard someone calling to her. She looked around to see if anyone was trying to grab her attention, but the half-dozen men and women divided between the bloodied coat and Mulder's car, seemed to be otherwise occupied searching for clues and collecting evidence. She listened intently for a moment for any kind of follow-up, but the helicopter circling above and a train whistle blasting nearby made her think that she had only imagined hearing her name mixed in with all the surrounding chaos. Then again...

"Agent Scully?" a male voice called out to her from behind.

She turned to face the officer approaching her. Noting the nameplate on the man's jacket, she responded, "Yes, Officer Garret. Have you found something?"

"No, ma'am. And I don't know if this has any relevance, but sometimes it's the little things, you know."

"Yes, I know," she offered him a weak smile. "What is it, Officer?"

"Well, it's just that I happened to see Agent Mulder this morning around eight-thirty. He was passing by the Broward Academy, where a reported kidnapping was being investigated. I was keeping the traffic moving and he rolled down his window to ask me what all the brouhaha was all about."

"What did you tell him?"

"That it was probably just some rich kid running away or trying to get attention from her parents."

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing really. I asked him if the FBI was getting involved and he said it looked like we had enough manpower already. Then he wished me luck and drove on."

"And did he have a dog with him?"

"Yeah, he did. It was a beautiful animal, just lounging real relaxed in the back seat. I was kind of impressed with it. My dog goes bunkers when I put him in the car."

"Anything else you can think of?"

"Well, just one thing. He said that he was going to take the dog to the animal shelter a few blocks away. Even asked me for directions. I told him he needed to turn left at the corner. But I noticed when he stopped at the intersection, he kind of sat there for a while, then he made a right turn instead of a left, like he suddenly changed his mind about taking the dog to the shelter. That's the last I saw of him."

"Thank you. That might be of some help."

The young man tipped his hat then went to join his coworkers.

Leave it to Mulder to turn something so mundane like dropping a dog off at a shelter into an adventure. Scully seated herself behind the wheel of her car and started the engine. As she began to drive off, she found herself speaking aloud. "Where the hell are you, Mulder?" she groaned wearily. She hated it when he played hide and seek. She was always it, always the one doing the seeking. Well, there was that one time when someone hid her against her will and Mulder tried unsuccessfully for months to find her. Looking at it that way, it was probably best that she be the one doing the seeking. Searching for Mulder was no picnic but she stood a better chance at finding him than the other way around. "Okay, Mulder, we'll play this game one last time."

* * *

**FBI Headquarters - Friday, 9:18 a.m.**

"Agent Scully?"

Scully lifted her head from Mulder's desk at the sound of her name. She was more than a little embarrassed at having A.D. Skinner catch her sleeping on the job. She stole a quick glance at her watch and figured she'd only been asleep for about fifteen minutes. She straightened up in her chair and swiped the hair back from her eyes.

"Sir, I was just resting my eyes for a moment. Has there been any news yet about Agent Mulder?"

"No. Doesn't look like you've gotten much sleep."

"No, not much. I was going over the forensic reports on Agent Mulder's... case."

Skinner grabbed a nearby chair and sat down across the desk from her. "What have you found so far?" he inquired.

"Well, for one thing, most of the blood found on the coat does not belong to Mulder."

"Most?"

"There was a small amount of blood found on the collar that tested positive as coming from Agent Mulder, but the majority of the blood belongs to someone else. It matches the blood found on the dog."

"So it would seem that the dog attacked whomever attacked Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir, it would seem so. Judging from the condition of the coat, the suspect used it to help ward off the dog's attack. There was one dog bite victim reported yesterday. I have a pretty good description of the suspect, but the name and address he used were bogus and after receiving treatment, he walked out of the emergency ward without a doctor's release. A couple of witnesses from the hospital will be coming in to look through mug shots. Hopefully, he has a record and we'll be better able to find him."

"What about the dog? Still unable to contact its owner?"

"Still no answer by phone. I plan to stop by the residence today and check it out. In the meantime the dog will remain at the animal shelter."

"It's a shame he can't talk," Skinner mused aloud.

"Sir?"

"The dog is the only witness, Agent Scully. He knows what happened to Agent Mulder."

The idea struck them both at the same time. They exchanged hopeful glances, then both jumped from their seats. Within an hour, Skinner was parking his car at the railroad yard in the same place Mulder's car had been found the night before. Scully took charge of the dog, opening the back door and grabbing the end of its leash as she coaxed it out of the car. She took Mulder's lost glove from her coat pocket and waved it under the dog's snout to give it a scent. She had no idea what would happen if anything, but so far it was the only available method of locating her partner.

"Okay, Pooh. Find Mulder. Go find the other glove."

Without hesitation, the dog headed towards the rear of the warehouse. Scully had to run to keep up with its forceful tugging on the leash. Skinner ran alongside, adding his hand to the leash when it seemed that the animal might break free from Scully's hold. The dog made a stop in the area where the coat had been found, then turned and headed towards the train tracks. Pooh led them to the first row of tracks and stopped in the center of them. He turned to his right, then lifted his head and sniffed the air in that direction. He looked up at Scully as if to ask her if she smelled what he did.

"Dead end, huh?" said Skinner. "Well, it was worth a try."

"There was a train here," said Scully, looking up and down the now empty track.

"What?"

"There was a freight train parked here last night. Now it's gone."

"You think Agent Mulder was on that train?"

Scully looked down at the dog which had begun to tug hard on its leash. "Dammit! I thought I heard someone calling me last night. But there was so much noise going on... It was Mulder. I'm sure it was him."

The ring on the dog's collar that held the leash in place, suddenly snapped off and the dog was making a mad dash down the track. "Pooh!" Scully yelled after it "Come back!"

Skinner quickly let loose with a shrill whistle that got the dog's attention. It stopped and turned sideways on the track, looking back at the two humans bidding him to return. He glanced back towards the direction he had been running as if trying to choose between the two options. It didn't take long for him to make up his mind, and soon he was a white speck disappearing down an endless track.


	3. On a Train Headed for Who Knows Where

**Inside a Moving Train Car - Friday, 10:48 a.m.**

The constant, clamorous chugging sounds and the shaky back and forth motion finally shook Mulder out of his sleep. As he awoke, he tried hard to ignore the throbbing ache in his shoulder, the soreness in his chest and the vice grip which was being constantly applied to his head. He his eyes slitted open, meeting only with darkness once again. The train was in transit. Scully had not heard him. She had not come to his rescue. Her magical Mulder detector must have short-circuited. He had been amazed at how his partner had managed to ferret him out in some of the most unusual of locations. She had tracked him to an abandoned satellite station in the jungles of Puerto Rico, and to the middle of nowhere Alaska with little more than a hunch to go on. Perhaps she just wanted to prolong the search, to make him appreciate her even more when she finally did rescue him. He'd give her another day, then after that, he'd take matters into his own hands.

Mulder slowly uncoiled from the tight ball he had curled himself into in order to help retain body heat. Joints cracked and muscles rebelled as he forced himself to sit up. The night had been a bit chilly, but with the train in motion, the car had warmed somewhat from the friction of the wheels underneath. Once comfortably - as comfortable as he could be at present - in an upright position, Mulder sought out the time on his watch. Pressing the tiny button, he was rewarded with a bright, green glow, which seemed nearly blinding after being subjected to the previous total darkness. He studied the digital numbers and date, and silently calculated the time thus far he had spent in his moving prison. It had been a little over than twenty-four hours. It felt like an eternity.

Glancing up at the inaccessible exit, he wondered if he should give it another try. Perhaps someone had unlocked it at some point during the night as he slept. Before he could convince himself one way or the other about that, a movement caught his eye from the shadows at the far end of the car. He detected what appeared to be two, small iridescent green orbs floating eerily towards him. He slid backwards, contemplating escape but only succeeded in pressing himself into the curved, steel wall. His thumb lost its grip on the light giving button on his watch just as the fast approaching orbs were about to descend upon him. He screamed out in terror as something cold and wet pressed against his cheek and long, stiff hairs tickled his nose. Putting his hand up in defense, he made contact with thick, soft fur attached to a solid, warm body, large, erect ears, and a leather collar with a heart-shape piece of metal dangling from it. It took a few seconds for the messages his sense of touch were creating to finally translate in his mind.

"Pooh?" he uttered, his voice barely audible. The animal reacted instantly with a wet tongue lapping gently at Mulder's lips. "Okay, okay," Mulder groaned softly as he turned his head away from the sloppy kisses. He was convinced that it was definitely Pooh or either Scully was in dire need of a full body shave. The dog, thankfully, aborted his show of affection as Mulder found the light switch again. "God! You scared the crap out of me! How'd you get in here?"

Naturally, there was no answer forthcoming, leaving Mulder to wonder how the animal had come to be trapped with him and how is it he hadn't noticed him earlier. Of course, he had to have been in the car all along, perhaps unconscious or asleep in a far corner. Mulder knew that some animals became quite docile when placed in a state of complete darkness, or perhaps all the screaming and noise Mulder had kept up earlier had left the pooch somewhat apprehensive. Mulder wanted to check the dog out to see if it had been injured, but wasn't sure what help he could offer even if it were. All he might do was touch some sensitive area and probably end up with his throat torn out. In his present condition, Mulder knew he was in no shape to defend himself should Pooh decide to pull a Cujo on him. So far, the dog only seemed to be interested in companionship as he sat close to Mulder and lightly rested his muzzle on his uninjured shoulder. It was probably a position he'd shared often with his owner.

Mulder raised his right hand and gave his new friend a couple of gentle pats on the head. "Sorry I got you into this mess," he spoke softly. If he had only taken the dog to the animal shelter as he had intended, he most surely would have avoided this latest fiasco. "Scully's gonna kill me," he groaned. Assuming she can find me, he thought to himself. Still, he might be able to get himself out of this. As soon as the train came to a stop, he could yell and bang on the sides to get someone's attention. He remembered seeing the word 'Sugar' printed on the side of the car. It was probably going back to be refilled and someone at some point would have to take a look inside to clean it, hopefully.

Having skipped breakfast before all this started, Mulder was more thirsty than hungry although his stomach had begun to growl for nourishment. He wondered how long Pooh could hold out; how long before he was unable to control his natural instincts for survival and feed on the only other source of food in the place. Mulder had a flashback to Scully's little cannibal Queequeg snacking on its owner after the old woman passed away. He shuddered at the memory and at the thought of Pooh chowing down on his remains should they not be rescued in time. As if reading his mind and trying to alleviate his fears, Pooh nuzzled against him affectionately and lapped his chin with a warm, wet tongue. Another kiss? Or could he have been simply tasting his next meal?

"Yeah, you're all kissy-face now," said Mulder, carefully dissuading the gesture, "but give it another day or two and you'll be checking my pockets for Grey Poupon."

Despite the threat of becoming dog food, Mulder was actually relieved to have the animal as company. He recalled an incident a couple of years back when he had been kidnapped and placed in solitary confinement for two, mind-numbing weeks. He had been given a few comforts of home, food water and a bed, but what he found he had craved most of all was companionship. After the first week, even a loathsome cockroach would have been a welcomed roommate. Having the quiet canine present now made him feel rather relaxed considering the circumstances.

When something rolled against his leg, Mulder reached out blindly until he made contact. Recognizing immediately what it was, he smiled triumphantly, then switched the small flashlight on. The sudden brightness made him squint at first, but his eyes quickly adjusted from complete darkness to a narrow beam of light shining upwards.

"Al-l-right-ty then!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "How do you like that, Pooh? We've got light. At least for a while. Not sure how long the batteries will last though. They're fairly new, so maybe they'll last until we can get out of here."

Mulder aimed his flashlight straight ahead and saw that he was facing a side wall. The surface was smooth and shiny which reflected the small beam of light and added a bit more illumination to his confinement. He had explored his surroundings yesterday to see if there was another way out besides the hatch. Using the weak light from his watch he was able to determine that there was only one way in and one way out. It made him wonder about the sudden appearance of Pooh again. He had felt his way from one end of the car to the other and was fairly sure he would have stumbled upon the animal at some point as big as it was. Perhaps it had deliberately avoided making contact for whatever reason. Surely, if it had been alert it could have seen, heard and smelled him coming.

Mulder carefully tucked the pen-shaped flashlight into the folds of his makeshift headband so that he could light the area directly in front of him. He then shifted his attention to the dog, trying to decide if it was in good physical shape. If it was hurt in any way, it was nothing obvious. He recalled hearing a gunshot after his assailant had dumped him through the hatch. He had assumed that Pooh tried to attack the man, then was shot and killed, perhaps with an FBI issued revolver. He could kick himself for losing his gun again. And he could kick himself twice for not strapping on his spare ankle gun. He had been so preoccupied trying to figure out what to do about the dog that he had forgotten to get his backup weapon. By the time he had thought about it, he was already behind the wheel of his car and didn't feel like going back into his apartment. Besides, he was only going in to the office to do paperwork all day long. He hadn't planned on seeing any action. He should have known better.

As he looked at the steel wall directly across from him, Mulder wondered if he had shot a gun off in here to gain attention, if the bullets might not ricochet about and come back for him. Stainless steel walls inside and cast iron outside probably wouldn't be easily penetrated by twenty-two caliber bullets. He looked at the dog again and thought about how his little ankle gun could at least offer protection against a vicious animal should Pooh happen to go stir crazy or rabid or whatever.

Mulder jumped slightly as the dog suddenly got to his feet and trotted off towards the darkest end of the car. After a moment, he returned with a bag in his mouth and dropped it in front of his traveling companion. Mulder stared at it curiously at first, then realized what it was and where it had come from. It was a bag from McDonald's. It was what Mulder had seen the man he was following drop into the tank car. He reached for it and opened it up. Inside the bag, he found a balled-up napkin, a half-eaten sausage biscuit and a sealed cup containing about an ounce of orange juice.

Mulder broke the sausage biscuit in half and offered a portion to Pooh who sniffed at it first, then decided it was okay to be consumed. Mulder followed his example then took the lid off the orange juice. He didn't know if dogs drank orange juice, so he held the lid out to Pooh who sniffed it, then turned away with disinterest. Just as well, because there was only a swallow's worth which Mulder greedily gulped down. After breakfast, he placed the remnants back into the bag and sat it aside.

"Thanks, Pooh. That really hit the spot... You know, you could have kept it all for yourself. I'm glad you didn't, but I guess I just figured that it's every man and dog for himself."

Mulder silently watched the dog as it pawed at the bag, then began to systematically rip it to shreds, perhaps out of boredom or simply it was something he enjoyed doing. A shooting pain in his shoulder reminded Mulder of its misalignment. He had managed to push all pain aside temporarily since discovering he had company. Now the adrenaline had drained away and he was acutely aware of every little twinge. At least the headache wasn't as bad as before. The dizzying pounding had dwindled down to a dull throbbing. His side was sore to the touch, so he decided to refrain from touching it. That left him to concentrate on how agonizing his shoulder had become. The thought of somehow shifting it back into position consumed his brain. He considered giving it one good slam into the wall as Mel Gibson had done, but wasn't completely sold on that idea. His arm needed to be pulled away from his body in order for it to snap back into its socket. With that thought in mind, Mulder looked towards Pooh again, noticing the massive jaws on the gentle animal.

"You like playing tug of war, Pooh?" Mulder asked as he unfastened the belt buckle which had been helping to keep his arm immobile. He winced in agony at the lost of support but gritted his teeth and continued. He decided to test his theory first by wrapping one end of the belt around his right hand and offered Pooh the opposite buckled end. The animal instantly abandoned the shredding of the paper bag and grabbed the leather belt, tugging on it with determination. Mulder held on a few seconds, verbally encouraging the dog to pull. "Okay, that's enough," Mulder told him, but was ignored. Pooh continued the tug-of-war game until Mulder finally let go of his end, causing the dog to stumble back a few feet. Pooh returned undaunted and dropped the belt in Mulder's lap, happily awaiting a rematch.

Mulder repositioned himself on his knees, his left side facing Pooh. After wrapping the end of the belt securely around his left hand, he again offered the other end to Pooh, though he kept a hold on it with his right so he could better control the outcome. As soon as the animal had the taste of leather in his mouth, he began pulling hard. Mulder waited until he felt that the animal was in just the right position, then he let go with his right hand and threw his body in the opposing direction. He let out a resounding yelp as his arm was yanked outwards and he felt his shoulder shift into a new location. Luckily, his cry startled the dog into dropping the belt, because he hadn't had either the sense or the ability to release his end. Cradling his screaming arm, Mulder sunk down on his haunches and attempted to catch his breath. "Oh, God!," he moaned. "I'm not so sure that was a good idea."

* * *

**FBI Headquarters - 12:45 p.m.**

Scully wasn't one-hundred-percent convinced that her partner was on the train that had departed the night before, but as long as there was that possibility, she knew she had to follow up on it. Even with computers to track the trains whereabouts, locating an unknown freight car was not easy. As the train traveled, it dropped off and picked up cars along the way. During the night, the Westbound train Mulder was thought to be on had already made four stops and dropped off a total of twenty-eight cars, half at various locations in three states and the rest had been transferred to an engine heading South. So far, four of the first nine cars had been located and searched. Tracking and searching the cars which had already been dropped off wouldn't pose too much of a problem. However, the office director wasn't thrilled at stopping the trains that were in transit to search for a man who may or may not be on board. After all, he pointed out, he had a schedule to keep. Scully understood his dilemma and asked graciously for his continued assistance in the matter.

It would definitely help to know what type of car Mulder was on. That would narrow down the search. But the only person who would know that was Mulder and whomever he had followed to the train yard. Knowing her partner as she did, Scully had to assume that he had been following some sort of lead. She sat at her desk looking over the composite drawing the two emergency room attendants had come up with. This was the man her partner had been following instead of taking the dog to the shelter. As Scully wondered about the relevance of that, the words of Officer Garret came back to her. He had spoken to Mulder about a kidnapping investigation at a girls' school near the animal shelter. Mulder must have spotted the man under suspicious circumstances and decided to check him out.

Scully picked up the phone, and after a few minutes had made contact with the investigating detective on the case. He agreed to meet her at the home of the kidnapped girl. She showed the composite sketch to the parents who was able to ID him as the twenty-year-old, ex-boyfriend of their missing daughter. Like dominoes, everything began to fall into place. A surprise visit to the young man's garage apartment yielded the missing girl, alive and unharmed, asleep in her lover's bed. Billy McWhorter admitted easily to the scam he and the under-aged Donna concocted to extort money from the girl's father so they could run away together. It took a bit more coaxing down at police headquarters for him to admit to attacking a federal agent and locking him inside a freight car. He insisted that once he had the ransom money he had planned to make an anonymous phone call and let someone know about the trapped agent. Scully didn't buy that for one second, but she didn't bother to call him on it. At the moment he was being cooperative, telling her what she needed to know to help locate her partner. He was able to give a general description of the car but had no details of identifying words or numbers. Still, it was more than what she had before.

* * *

**The Train - 1:24 p.m.**

Pooh had settled down on Mulder's right side, letting his head rest on a long, slim thigh. His tail flipped happily back and forth as a hand smoothed over his head and half way down his back. The biting pain in Mulder's shoulder seemed to last forever, but after a few minutes, it curbed considerably, content to be in its proper position once again. Mulder had replaced the belt again as a sling. Even though his shoulder felt better now, it was probably best to keep it immobile until he had it checked out by Dr. Scully. He knew she'd think him insane for doing what he had. He could have made things worse, but she'd forgive his stupidity. She always did.

As Mulder sat, languidly petting the dog, he thought back to another time and place. "I remember when I was a kid, it seemed like every family in the world had a dog except us. I begged my dad for a puppy for years, but he wouldn't give in at first because he didn't think I was responsible enough to take care of a dog. Then finally, for my tenth birthday, he and mom surprised me with a golden retriever puppy. I named him Shane, after that old Alan Ladd movie. He was a lot like you, personality-wise. Very gentle and friendly, playful. I taught him a few tricks. He was a great dog. I was crazy about him."

The faint smile which had crept onto Mulder's face began to fade as he recalled with crystal clarity the events that led to Shane's premature demise. He had been throwing a Frisbee around in the front yard for the dog to catch. His father had warned him to stay in the backyard when playing, but there were too many obstacles in the way. Besides his mother's garden and several full-bodied trees, he had to maneuver around Samantha and her tea party, the jungle gym with swing set, the gazebo and the fish pond. The front yard was the only place a boy and his dog could enjoy a decent came of Frisbee tossing. However, a misdirected throw sent an eager to please retriever out into the street and into the path of a moving van.

"I hate that sound you guys make when you get seriously hurt... He didn't make those sounds for long though. The truck got him pretty good. He wasn't even a year old." Mulder shook his head sadly. "I never wanted another dog after that. Goldfish became my pets of choice. You don't grow too attached to them and they die quietly."

Pooh turned partially over to expose his underside, then gently pawed at his new friend to redirect his petting. Mulder took the hint and rubbed his hand up and down the soft, white furred chest, setting off an ecstatic right hind leg motion in the process.

"God, you're easy to please," Mulder grinned. "Must be nice to find so much pleasure in something so simple. I wish my life could be so uncomplicated. Just lay back and have Scully rub me down... Yeah, I could definitely go for that. But don't tell her I said so."

Mulder remembered shaking his head in pity when he saw Scully talking to her dog as if it could understand everything she said. She insisted that it did indeed understand quite a lot, though not necessarily the words, but rather the tone of the words and the body language she used. So far, Mulder's voice had been a raspy monotone, and the only body language he had used was in petting the animal, his words completely unrelated. Pooh could not possibly have a clue as to anything he was saying. Perhaps that's why it made talking to him so easy.

"It's kind of like talking to myself, only I'm not," Mulder continued his monologue. "People think you're crazy when you talk to yourself. But people who talk to animals, that's different. You know, they've done studies on the calming and regenerative effects animals, especially dogs and cats have on people. They even have programs where they take dogs and cats to hospitals and nursing homes so people can pet them." Mulder smiled, thinking of this king-size canine with the wolf-like features going up to some little old lady in a wheelchair. "Somehow, Pooh... I'm sorry, but that name. I mean, I know my name's not that great either, but you have to admit that yours is kind of wimpy sounding. It reminds me of the little sissy dog that Olive Oyl always forced Popeye to take for a walk, and he'd end up getting beat up by Bluto and his bulldog named Killer. But of course, in the end, Popeye fed the dog some of his spinach and they both kicked ass.

"Your name is something more like what Scully should have named her dog." Mulder grimaced. "I still can't believe she named it Queequeg. The first time I heard her call it that, I spit out coffee all over myself. I was talking to her over the phone and she was yelling at it to stop eating a plant or something. 'Queequeg! Leave that alone,'" Mulder did a poor imitation of his partner's voice. "I never really liked him though. I guess he sensed it because he snarled and snapped at me whenever I got too close. I suppose that's why I wasn't more sympathetic to Scully when she lost him. Actually -- and I hate to admit this -- but at the time, I thought it was kind of funny in a sense. I know, I know it's sick, but the thought of Scully out walking this little dust mop at night in the backwoods of Georgia with a retractable leash and it gets away from her and gets eaten by a... a creature."

He recalled how upset Scully had been when she had lost Queequeg. He didn't take her loss seriously in the beginning. After all, it was just a dog. It wasn't like it was a real person or anything. He had never understood people who took their relationship with their pets as seriously as they would a human family member or friend. At least his partner had not been one of those types to dress her dog in sweaters and hats and spend a fortune to have its nails painted and its hair coifed with pink ribbons. He, himself had flushed many a goldfish down the toilet without a twinge of regret. Fish were disposable pets. They were something soothing to watch until they began floating to the top, belly up. He hadn't realized at the time that Scully had lost more than a disposable pet. She had lost unconditional love, trust and loyalty all wrapped up in one cuddly ball of fur.

"I shouldn't have called Queequeg a dust mop. That wasn't nice. If it wasn't for me he'd still be alive. If I had given Scully more time to find someone to look after him so she wouldn't have to drag him along with us... But I was in such a hurry to go chasing monsters and so insistent that she come with me, I didn't stop to think. But I know how dangerous X-File cases tend to get. They may seem like a bunch of unrelated coincidences on the surface but they always turn out to be something more sinister and deadly than anyone could ever imagine. She knew better than to bring him along, but... she figured I needed her and she didn't want to let me down. And when she lost him, what was my reaction? Well for one, I was kind of pissed that she still didn't want to believe in legendary sea monsters. I really didn't care much about what she might be feeling. I was so self-absorbed, all I cared about was catching sight of Big Blue. Which I never did because... there is no such thing.

"Scully got me back for my insensitivity though. When we were out on that rock thinking we might become Big Blue's midnight snack, she really let me have it. She called me Ahab. Said that I was chasing a white whale and that I didn't care who I took down with me in my relentless search for the ever elusive truth. It hurt to hear her say that. It hurt even more because I know it's true. I don't... I don't like to stop and think about all the people that have been hurt or killed because of me and my beliefs. And I don't know why Scully stays with me after all that's happened to her. I guess that's an X-file within itself." He sighed deeply as he considered his feelings towards his partner. "I don't know what I'd do without her. I've come so close on several occasions to having to find out... I love her," he softly confessed. "I should probably tell her that someday, but those words don't come easy for me. Hell, I couldn't even say them to her when she was in the hospital dying of cancer. But I think she knows how I feel about her. She has to know... She's my best friend."

* * *

**Railway Tracking Office - 3:37 p.m.**

When Scully took the new information back to the railway office and presented it to the director, he frowned uncomfortably. "Are you sure about this?" Jim Everett's words were laced with concern.

"As sure as I can be. Is there a problem?"

"The car you're describing is for foodstuff transport. It's specially designed to keep out moisture, rodents and bugs."

"Meaning?"

"It's air tight."

Scully did some quick figuring in her mind. "He's been in there for about thirty hours," she said. "How much air does he have left?"

The man shook his head, either choosing to ignore the question, or simply not knowing the answer. "Without knowing the exact serial number of the car, I still won't be able to pinpoint its location, but at least we have a good idea of what we're looking for. We'll find him," he offered her a reassuring smile.

"You didn't answer my question," Scully reminded him. "How much air does he have left?"

Everett eyed her evenly, knowing she wanted him to be straight with her. "Your partner has maybe another sixteen to eighteen hours of air, give or take. I'm sure that's plenty of time. Don't worry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Don't worry. Scully suppressed a pained chuckle at that thought. How many times had she heard that phrase associated with her partner? How many times had he used it to placate her? If she hadn't taken the time to worry about him when he didn't show up for work in the first place, she never would have known he was in trouble. A main part of her job decreed that she worry over him. And until she saw him safe and sound in front of her once again, she would continue her worrying.

"Damn you, Mulder," she swore under her breath, cursing his penchant for getting into trouble. Sighing deeply, she added, "Hold on, Mulder. I'll find you."


	4. Oh, Heavenly Dog

**The Train - Friday, 5.55 p.m.**

_There was a farmer, had a dog..._   
_and Bingo was his name-o._   
_B-I-N-G-O... B-I-N-G-O... B-I-N-G-O_   
_and Bingo was his name-o._

"That's kind of a dumb name for a farmer, don't you think?" Mulder paused from his singing to ask the question of his stalwart companion whose ear he was playfully scratching. Pretending to receive a response, Mulder stated, "Yeah, I know, I know. That's the dog's name, not the farmer's. Hey, did you hear the one about the farmer with a wooden leg named Smith? He named his other leg Jones. Get it?"

Mulder became aware of the train slowing down. A few minutes later it came to a complete stop. At last, he thought his rescue was assured. He began banging on the sides of the wall and yelling at the top of his lungs for several minutes. Finally, he stopped and put his ear to the wall hoping to hear his partner's call in return. Mostly what he heard were train noises, the loud hissing of air brakes, the chugging sounds of nearby trains and warning whistles. It wasn't likely that anyone could hear him over all that racket so he thought it best to wait until things quieted down a bit. After another moment, he felt the train moving again, but in the opposite direction. It moved slowly for perhaps a few hundred yards, then lurched to a stop.

"I think we're switching over to a different track."

Attempting to decipher the sounds and vibrations of the train, Mulder concluded that the engine was being disconnected from the freight cars. They had perhaps reached their final destination. It wouldn't be much longer, he thought. As soon as some of the external noise died down he'd make himself heard. Someone was bound to be in the area to load or unload cargo. And of course, he still hadn't given up on Scully making a surprise visit.

"We've got to make some noise, Pooh," he said to his traveling companion after a half hour of anxious waiting. "We've got to let someone know we're here. Can you bark for me? Speak!" he gave the command, hoping that the dog had been trained to bark on cue. "Come on, Pooh, speak!" From the continued silent treatment he received, Mulder had to assume that the animal had no clue as to what he was saying. He thought then that a demonstration was in order. "Listen, I need you to bark. Like this: Woof woof, arf arf arf!"

In response, Pooh simply cocked his head sideways and stared at him with a furrowed brow, befuddled at the odd sounds emanating from his lips. Mulder sighed in defeat. "You know, you remind me of Scully during her first couple of weeks of working with me. After a while though, she finally got used to hearing weird shit coming out of my mouth."

Seeing that the dog wasn't going to assist him, Mulder considered the best way to make himself heard. He took off his right shoe then began pounding out an SOS with the heel against the side of the wall. He alternated that with an occasion verbal cry for help. Pooh backed away from him, skittish of his sudden strange behavior and all the racket he was keeping up. Mulder kept the clamoring going for a few minutes, then waited to hear a response. Nothing. He checked his watch for the time and felt hopeful that someone would happen by soon.

* * *

**The Train - Saturday, 2:55 a.m.**

Mulder was terribly disappointed in Scully. She was losing her Wonder Woman status with him. Again she had failed to show up and save the day, and no one had responded to his pleas for help. His throat was raw from constant yelling and his right arm sore from pounding on the wall. Off and on for hours, he'd kept it up until he'd seen that it was well past midnight. If there was no one around to hear him during the earlier part of the evening, he seriously doubted that anyone would be within earshot now.

Mulder sat in stony silence, his arms hugging his chest and his head resting against his drawn up knees, trembling from the cold. While the train was in motion, the friction of the wheels on the track had added a certain amount of warmth to the freight car. Now that the train was still, the temperature had dropped considerably. He raised his head and looked out into the blackness at the other end of the car. He could barely make out the eerie glow of the dog's eyes as the dim light from the penlight penetrated the darkness. The animal was lying down several feet away, apparently uncertain about the human opposite him.

"Sorry if I frightened you with the noise," said Mulder softly. "But I'm trying to get us out of here. You don't have to be afraid of me... Then again... if you'd had the sense to be afraid of me in the very beginning, you wouldn't be in this mess. Just leave it to old Fox Mulder. If anyone can endanger your life or get you killed, it's me. Whether it's through personal contact or casual association, Fox Mulder can be your one-way ticket to hell."

Mulder slipped into a momentary state of depression as he silently paused to think of all the people whose lives had been sacrificed or drastically altered because of him and his efforts to uncover the truth or solve a case. Just thinking of half the dangerous situations he had put his partner through was enough to cause self-loathing of his own existence. "I'm like a walking plague. I destroy the lives of practically everyone I come in contact with."

He hung his head dejectedly, primed to wallow in self-pity, but was startled out of it by the unexpected touch of a cold nose against his forehead. He lifted his head and pulled back slightly as Pooh attempted to give him another nudge.

"What? What do you want?" Mulder found himself asking before realizing he wouldn't be getting a response.

The animal stood in front of him and nudged his knee with his muzzle. When his attempt at communication went unheeded, he made a whining sound and lifted his front paw to Mulder's leg.

"I know you want food, you want water, you want to get the hell out of here. Well so do I... Don't worry. It's gonna be okay. We'll get out."

Pooh's nudging became a bit more forceful as he worked his snout between Mulder's knees. Uncertain of the dog's intentions at first, Mulder was reluctant to let it get closer, but after a moment, he finally understood what it was after. He spread his legs apart and welcomed Pooh into a one-armed embrace. Besides the instantaneous warmth the dog provided, Mulder could also feel the tiny tremors going through the animal's body. With the thick coat it wore, Mulder knew that it couldn't possibly be cold. It was undoubtedly scared, but of what was unclear. Perhaps it knew their fate already. Perhaps Pooh could already sense the fact that they were running out of air. Mulder had contemplated that possibility from the beginning but never wanted to dwell on it. If he were as selfish and uncaring as Scully's brother had made him out to be, he would take the dog's collar and pull it tight, snuffing out his competition for the remaining air and buying himself more time.

As Mulder nestled his face against a deep, downy muscular neck and plowed his fingers through the thick, soft undercoat, he felt the trembling ease under his touch. Mulder knew he could never do anything to harm his new friend, even if it meant saving his own life.

* * *

**Indianapolis Freight Yard - Saturday, 4:22 a.m.**

Scully drove up and parked alongside an emergency vehicle and a row of three police cars. As soon as she stepped out, a tall, balding middle-aged man stepped up to greet her.

"Agent Scully?" he inquired. Receiving a tired nod, he introduced himself. "I'm Lt. Devlin. I've had some of my people and about a dozen of the train crew searching through the freight cars. I'm afraid your partner's nowhere to be found."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. She had been up all night waiting for confirmation as to the train's location. According to the computer shipping records, this was the last possible train Mulder could have been on. All other cars matching the description had already been found and searched. If Mulder wasn't on any of these cars, that meant the search had to start over from the beginning. It could have been that Billy had been mistaken about the type of car he had locked Mulder in. He had been given a lie detector test, so Scully felt sure that he had been honest about what had happened. He didn't have a criminal record and had been the typical boy next door until he had been influenced by a fifteen-year-old vixen who was mature beyond her years.

So if Billy had given the right information, something had to have occurred along the way. Either Mulder had been rescued by someone at some point and no one had reported it yet, or a computer error had sent them chasing after the wrong train. That possibility Scully didn't want to have to think about just yet. She looked to Lt. Devlin and asked, "Could you please have your people search again?"

The detective was about to tell her that their search had been thorough, but after one look in those sad but hopeful, aqua blue eyes and he conceded to her wishes. He knew he'd want his own partner to go that extra mile if it were him. He nodded, and immediately called out to his small army of searchers to take it from the top. This time they'd have one more pair of dedicated eyes working with them.

* * *

**The Train - 8:22 a.m.**

It was getting harder to breathe. The oxygen was nearly gone. Mulder lay curled on his right side, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His traveling companion lay nestled close, still providing that much needed warmth, but little else. He hadn't moved in quite some time, leaving Mulder to guess that the animal was unconscious. Scully was really cutting it close again. Why couldn't she ever get to him before he was facing that white light at the end of the tunnel? He'd had near-death experiences before, and as much as he loved discovering life's mysteries, that was one place he didn't like to visit often.

Suddenly, Pooh raised his head from where it had rested in the crook of Mulder's neck, and began a low growl. Mulder tensed, thinking that the animal had finally been driven mad from the lack of food, water and now oxygen. Mulder covered his head protectively with his uninjured arm as if that would keep the sharp teeth and claws at bay. Pooh barked once softly, as if clearing his throat. He then got to his feet and began using his voice at full volume which Mulder found compatible to having a teenager blasting a boom box in his ear. Pooh moved away from the form lying at his feet and trotted towards the opposite end of the car, his yapping becoming more intense by the minute.

Mulder lifted his head cautiously and stole a glance, still uncertain of what was going on until Pooh silenced himself for a moment. It was barely audible to his ears, but gradually the sound from outside became clearer. "...doggie on the train!" It was a child's voice calling out in response to the dog he or she had heard barking from within the sealed freight car. Mulder opened his mouth, attempting to make his presence known, but found that the lack of sufficient air in his lungs and a raw throat made speech impossible. Oddly enough, Pooh had no problems filling his lungs and expelling a high-decibel howl, which received more attention from outside. "Doggie!" the child spoke loud and clear enough for Mulder to easily pick up, "Daddy, daddy! There's a doggie on the train!"

The voice faded out as the child moved off into the distance, hopefully to bring help. Pooh trotted back over to Mulder and nuzzled his chin almost as if to tell him to hang in there a bit longer, help was on the way. Mulder managed a grateful smile and one last affectionate pat on the head before losing consciousness.

* * *

**Grady Memorial Hospital - Sunday, 2:34 p.m.**

Mulder opened his eyes to a wondrous sight. A big grin stretched across his face as he found his voice. "Just like old times," he spoke in little more than a whisper.

"Yeah, just like old times," Scully replied with a relieved smile. "How do you feel?"

"Lucky." He looked towards the window, not recognizing the view outside. "How far did my train ticket take me?"

"We're in Atlanta."

He raised his brows in surprise. "Land of the free, home of the Braves." He cleared his throat to get a bit more volume, then asked, "Can I get a little water, please?"

"Sure."

There was a pitcher of water nearby and Scully poured some for him and held the glass while he sipped from the straw.

"Thanks," he said, letting her know when he'd had his fill.

"Anytime."

"Where's my little buddy? Is he all right?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"You know, the short, four-legged guy with fur."

"Oh, you mean the dog?"

"He's okay, isn't he?" Mulder asked showing marked concern.

Scully sighed in exasperation. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but we lost him."

"Lost him?" Mulder felt his heart sink. He had lived while Pooh had died.

"Yeah, he just ran away."

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. Pooh wasn't dead after all. "He ran away?"

"Yeah. Well, at first I had him placed in an animal shelter for safe keeping, but then, A.D. Skinner and I got this idea that perhaps he could lead us to you since he was our only witness at the time. Anyway, we took him back to where we had located your car. There, he led us to where we found your coat, then he went straight to the railroad tracks. That's when I realized that you must have been on the train that had been parked there the night before. Then, all of a sudden, Pooh broke free from his leash and he started running down the railroad track almost as if he was chasing after the train. We tried to stop him, but..." Scully noticed the bewildered look on her partner's face. "What?"

"He... he caught up with the train," said Mulder, his brows furrowed in thought. "I didn't think he was there before, but he must have caught up and somehow got inside the car with me."

"What?"

"He was on the train with me, Scully."

"Mulder, you must have been dreaming."

"No. He was there, Scully. I talked to him, I petted him. He helped keep me warm."

Scully shook her head sympathetically. "I don't know what to tell you Mulder, but there was no dog in that freight car with you. Even if he had been able to catch up to you, there was no way he could have opened the hatch to let himself inside and then lock it again from the outside."

"How did you find him to begin with? Was he still in my car?"

"No. I went to your apartment looking for you and he just showed up. Right at the main entrance, he nearly knocked me over, jumping up on me. Going by your description earlier, I assumed he was the dog you'd found. He had one of your gloves, then I found traces of blood on him and thought that perhaps he had attacked you. It turned out that he had attacked the man who had thrown you into that train car."

"Did you catch the guy?"

"Yes. Billy McWhorter. The kidnapping you stumbled onto was a ruse set up by him and his girlfriend to extort money from her father so they could run off and get married. Mr. McWhorter claimed that he hadn't intended for you to be hurt. He believed that you had caught on to him and he only wanted you out of the way long enough for him to get the money and run. He said he planned to call the police later and inform them of your situation. At any rate, he described the freight car you were in. Unfortunately, due to a clerical error, we were unable to pinpoint your exact location."

"I was wondering what took you so long," Mulder teased lightly. "But, Scully, I swear to you, it wasn't my imagination. The dog was there with me. My dislocated shoulder..." Mulder nodded towards his left arm in a sling, "he helped to reset it."

"The dog reset your shoulder?" Scully questioned dubiously.

"He _helped_ ," Mulder emphasized. "We were playing tug of war with my belt and I figured that maybe, if pulled just right, I could get my shoulder to pop back into place."

"Mulder, that was very dangerous. You could have done some serious damage."

"So you believe he was there?"

"Not necessarily."

Mulder tilted his head to one side as he looked at her. "That didn't sound exactly like a, 'No'."

"Actually, the real reason we were able to locate you in time was due to a six-year-old girl whose father works for the rail line. He's a little hard of hearing, so he can't actually verify it, but his daughter insisted that she heard some barking coming from inside one of the freight cars. When he checked it out, all he found was you. I don't suppose that you were so delirious that you were barking like a dog?"

"I wasn't delirious."

"But you were barking like a dog?"

"Earlier, when the train first stopped, I tried to get Pooh to bark, but he wouldn't. I guess he knew there was no one close enough to hear. But, anyway, I tried demonstrating what I wanted him to do."

"So you're saying that you were trying to show an imaginary dog how to bark?"

"Is that what you truly believe?" Mulder asked with a hurt tone. "That it was all my imagination?"

Instead of answering, Scully stared thoughtfully for a moment at Mulder's IV, then said, "I went to see Pooh's owner the day he ran away."

"And?"

"She said that it couldn't have been her dog. She used to have one just like it though. She showed me pictures. But her dog died last month from problems associated with aging. She believes it's merely a coincidence that this dog should have the same nickname that she sometimes called hers, and she thinks that the phone number on his ID tag is probably a misprint. She said she's had recent calls from people who have encountered him, people wanting to reward him for saving lives, or for helping during emotional crises. She says she'd love to see this dog for herself but no one has ever been able to hang on to him. Apparently, he does his duty and then disappears."

"Scully, are you saying that he's a ghost dog?"

"No, Mulder, I was leaving that for you to say."

"You have to admit it's strange how he just came out of nowhere. Maybe he knew ahead of time that I was going to get into trouble."

"It doesn't take a ghost dog to know that sooner or later you will get into trouble, Mulder."

"But why did I take to him the way I did? I'm not a dog person, Scully. I don't make a habit of befriending big, wolf-like, strays. And why did he go to you? What made him go back to my apartment building and single you out? Maybe he wasn't a ghost. Maybe he was the reincarnation of a recently deceased person who was given the opportunity to return to earth in order to avenge his own death or redeem himself by helping out someone else who might be in danger, only he had to take on the form of a dog to do it.."

"Mulder, you're describing the movie _Oh, Heavenly Dog!_ with Chevy Chase and Benji."

"Well, then maybe he's my guardian angel."

"Your guardian angel?"

"Yeah. How do you think you always manage to find me when I ditch... when we become separated and I end up in serious trouble? I know you're a good investigator, Scully, but you have to admit that it sometimes take a miracle to pull it off."

That statement she couldn't argue with. Deciding to change the subject, Scully asked, "So what did you talk about with your doggie friend?"

"You mean my imaginary doggie friend?" Mulder shrugged, not wanting to reveal what really transpired. "Actually, he did most of the talking," he quipped. "He uh... he started out complaining about how much he really hates cats. Both the animal and the musical. Then he told me that the rubber from certain chew toys leave a nasty aftertaste in his mouth. And at one point, he was trying to enlighten me as to the significance of butt sniffing... I think I must have fallen asleep during that though."

Scully chuckled lightly and watched as her partner unsuccessfully tried to keep a straight face, then he held his hand out to her. She placed her palm in his and received a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry about Queequeg," he said out of the blue.

Scully raised her brows in total shock, wondering where the heck that had come from. "Mulder, that was a long time ago and you've already given me your condolences."

"But they weren't exactly heartfelt. I told you I was sorry about your dog's death because it was expected of me, but I really didn't understand what it was you were actually going through at the time. I had forgotten what it was like to have a pet like that and lose it."

He had surprised her yet again. "You... you had a dog once?"

"When I was a kid, before Samantha left... And it was my fault that he ran out into the street and got hit by a truck. I'd pretty much forced myself to forget. When I was on that train with Pooh, I was forced to remember again. And I also thought about you and Queequeg... You still miss him?"

Scully took a moment to think about it, then nodded. "Sometimes. I know you didn't get along with him well, but he really was very sweet, very affectionate. He'd make me smile when I didn't really feel like it. He was always so happy to see me when I got in. He'd leap into the air and spin around in circles, his whole body would be shaking with excitement."

"Oh, just like me. I'm doing all that internally right now," Mulder teased.

Scully smiled lightly, but it soon faded as she shook her head with remorse. "I keep thinking that I should've held on tighter to that leash, that I should've taken you up on your offer to accompany me when I took him for that walk or that-"

"You should've stayed home with him when you realized you couldn't get anyone to dog-sit for you."

"You didn't exactly leave me much of a choice, Mulder."

"I know. But I should have, and I'm sorry. He was special to you, and I'm sorry I didn't understand that at the time."

"He really had an effect on you, didn't he?"

"Queequeg?"

"No. Pooh. Whether he was real or imaginary on that train, he had a profound effect on you."

Mulder shrugged lightly and said, "Yeah, well, guardian angel ghost dogs always have a profound effect on me."

* * *

**Quiktrip Gas Station - Monday, 9:45 a.m.**

On the way to the Atlanta Hartsfield airport, Scully stopped off to fill the tank on the rental car. After pumping the gas, she was miffed to find that the credit card taker was out of receipt paper and she'd have to go inside the store after all. She asked her partner if he wanted her to bring him anything back, and Mulder simply shook his head. He was still feeling a bit weak from his ordeal and all he wanted to do was rest. He watched as Scully went into the store and disappeared behind the cappuccino machine. As his eyes trailed back towards the front windshield, he spotted something in the outside rearview mirror. By the time he'd unbuckled his seat belt and bolted from the car, the vision he'd seen in the mirror was gone. Mulder glanced all about and caught sight of a flash of white as it turned the corner of the building.

Mulder gave chase, and as he rounded the corner, he had to quickly put on the brakes to keep from tripping over his quarry. Pooh sat waiting for him a few feet away from the edge of the building. Mulder squatted down and held out his hand. The animal went to him instantly, showering him with wet, doggie kisses. Mulder smiled and gave the dog a loving hug.

"Hi, boy. You got away before I had a chance to say thanks. You saved my life, Pooh. Lassie couldn't have done it any better."

"Mulder?" Scully called out, a tinge of worry in her tone.

"Here, Scully."

"Here, where?"

Mulder stood and turned, peeking his head around the corner so that his partner could see him. "Over here. Come see who I found."

It only took Scully a few seconds to reach him. "So who'd you find?" she asked, looking about for whomever it was he wanted her to meet.

Mulder's jaw dropped when he turned to see that Pooh was gone. There didn't seem to be any obvious places he could have gone that quickly. Mulder ran to the back of the building and saw nothing but a fenced area designed for trash pickup.

"Mulder, what is it?"

"He was here, Scully. The dog was here just a second ago."

"What do you think he wanted?"

It was a strange thing for her to ask, she knew, but she was too weary to argue with him or accuse him of seeing things. Mulder seemed taken aback by the question and had no immediate response. After giving it some thought, he shrugged and said, "I guess he wanted... to say good-bye."

Scully nodded, then put an arm around his back to urge him towards the car. "We've got a plane to catch, Mulder."

When they reached the car, Scully got inside and proceeded to adjust her seat belt while Mulder lingered outside the passenger door. He looked back towards the side of the building and saw Pooh sticking his head around the corner. Mulder nearly took his eyes away to inform his partner, but thought better of it. Instead, he gave a nod towards his temporary friend and spoke in a whisper.

"Good-bye, Pooh. Give my regards to Shane and Queequeg."

Pooh tilted his muzzle upwards in what appeared to be an answering nod of his head, then he turned away and disappeared behind the building again. Mulder finally opened the door and climbed inside. As he buckled himself in, he felt his partner's steady gaze on him. He cringed at the thought of what she might say. When he turned to look at her, he saw an amused scowl on her face.

"Is that a gray hair I see, Mulder?"

"Where?" he blurted out with unintentional panic in his voice.

Scully reached up and plucked a thick, white strand from his bangs. Examining it closely, she came to a new conclusion. "I think it's animal hair."

Proof, Mulder thought. Proof was what his wonderful, practical partner always insisted upon. He eyed her expectantly, waiting for her to begin spewing perfectly logical explanations as to where the hair she held, plus the others he noticed clinging to his black, denim jeans and jacket had come from. Scully, on the other hand, was waiting for him to start spouting off his bizarre theories as to why a guardian angel ghost dog would be shedding. But she didn't want to question or belittle his beliefs at the moment. She was so happy to have him alive and well and back in her life again that the rest didn't really matter. She managed to convey that to him with bright eyes and a gentle smile. Dense as he was at times, Mulder picked up on her silent message easily. He didn't want to argue either. He warmly returned her smile, then casually brushed away the evidence from his clothing. Scully let the hair strand she'd been holding fall away, then turned her attention to driving. Mulder reclined his seat, closed his eyes and blithely recalled his tenth birthday.

The End


End file.
